


Where I'm Meant To Be

by freyjawriter24



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: F/F, Femslash February, Fluff, Ineffable Wives | Female Aziraphale/Female Crowley (Good Omens), Light Angst, Lost and Found, Love Letters, Post-Almost Apocalypse (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 23:59:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29269128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freyjawriter24/pseuds/freyjawriter24
Summary: After the non-Apocalypse, Aziraphale realises she’s lost something important. Luckily, what’s missing ends up right where it needs to be.***Fic written for theIneffable Wives Femslash February 2021event.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 20
Collections: Ineffable Wives Femslash February 2021





	Where I'm Meant To Be

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is inspired by the [Ineffable Wives Central](https://ineffable-wives-central.tumblr.com) Femslash February 2021 [prompt list](https://perfectlyineffable.tumblr.com/post/640033667754967040/hello-fellow-wives-lovers-february-is-fast).
> 
> As I am apparently hopeless at completing a calendar of daily prompts in any sort of reasonable amount of time (yes I’m side-eyeing my own unfinished [December 2019](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21672625/chapters/51684685) and [September 2020](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26289856/chapters/64006102) ficlet collections), I’ve decided to do something a bit different this time. I’ve combined all 28 prompts into a single one-shot.
> 
> How, you ask? Well, it’s simple. Actually, no it’s not. It’s ridiculous, but I’m always up for a challenge.
> 
> Basically, I’ve used one prompt per paragraph, with the prompt itself used as the nth word in said paragraph, where ‘n’ is the number of the day the prompt is assigned to. So, for example, the prompt for day 2 of the calendar is ‘eyes’, so it’s the second word in the second paragraph of the fic.
> 
> I’ve bolded all the prompt words throughout the fic (so even if my explanation isn’t clear enough, you should get what I mean soon enough). I hope you enjoy my wacky use of this particular [prompt calendar](https://perfectlyineffable.tumblr.com/post/640033667754967040/hello-fellow-wives-lovers-february-is-fast)!

**First** there was idle wondering. Then came casual looking. Next came serious searching, which soon became urgent, then quickly escalated into frantic. _No, no, no, come on, where are they?_

Her **eyes** were wild as she pulled tome after tome off the shelves, rifling through the pages in search of the misplaced missives, and then roughly discarding the epistle-less volumes into piles wherever there was space on the floor.

Once every **book** had been checked – and besides that, every cupboard and drawer and loose floorboard in the place – the truth had become unavoidable. Aziraphale had lost the letters.

Her blood ran **cold**. Those were… ‘irreplaceable’ seemed too simple a word. They were _proof_ , was the thing. Proof of something Aziraphale hadn’t been able to say aloud.

She couldn’t help but **wish** that Crowley was here. Not that the demon would have been able to help in any way – Aziraphale was certain she’d turned every inch of the place inside-out, and there wasn’t anywhere left for Crowley to helpfully suggest. But the comfort would have been nice. Or, at the very least, the shared sadness.

That decided it. Outside, the **stars** overhead offered no judgement on her decision. Perhaps they, adrift in the empty expanse of space, understood the desire for closeness. Perhaps they recognised a kindred spirit in the celestial being, and couldn’t begrudge her the joy of finding what they so constantly crave. Or perhaps they were simply indifferent, content to observe but offer no comment on the goings-on of Earth. Either way, they simply watched as the angel hurried across London in search of her demon, twinkling away unobtrusively as Aziraphale reflected on her relationship with Crowley.

Recently, their lives had begun to **grow** closer together, becoming gradually more intertwined. They saw each other almost as often as they had during the Dowling years, except that it was all for pleasure now, and none for business. They had incorporated each other into their lives, orienting personal plans around shared lunches, visits to the theatre, trips to art galleries, and regular walks in the park. They were also close enough now that, by mutual agreement, they were even welcome to enter each others’ private residences without calling ahead first.

All the same, Aziraphale couldn’t help but **blush** as she let herself into Crowley’s flat. It still felt risky to come here – not dangerous, per se, but more like she was showing her hand too much. Honesty, especially about an emotion buried for so long, was still difficult to get the hang of sometimes. And that key, hanging from a ring on one of her belt loops, often felt like too much of a confession.

Crowley had said she’d fancied a rather long **nap** now that everything was sorted, so Aziraphale headed for the bedroom. At the time, Aziraphale had agreed it would probably be good for her. Crowley usually seemed to function better on a decent amount of sleep, and considering the chaos of the last… well, eleven years at a minimum, she hadn’t really gotten much of a chance. Which was also why the angel was loath to wake her now.

Aziraphale quietly pushed open the door. Crowley reacted lightning **fast** , jumping up from where she’d been sat on the bed and flying halfway across the room with her arms out protectively in front of her, before she realised who it was.

“Oh. Sorry, angel.” She blinked twice, then sheepishly extinguished the **flame** flickering in her outstretched hand. “Wasn’t expecting you for another week or so. Didn’t mean to… Sorry. Just startled me a bit.”

“I’m so sorry, my dear, I should have knocked.” The loving **embrace** felt natural now, but at the same time it was still new enough to cause butterflies to take flight in Aziraphale’s stomach. “I didn’t want to wake you.”

“Wasn’t getting much sleep anyway,” Crowley admitted. “Been reading up about historical **gal pals** instead to take my mind off things.”

“Oh, really?” Aziraphale said, immediately interested. “Was it those lovely girls with the **roses**? Or Vita and Virginia?” She moved over to the bed and rescued from the floor the book that Crowley had dropped a moment earlier. She peered at the cover. “Do you know, I’m not sure I recognise this one.”

“No, well. When I say historical, I mean the 1980s.” Aziraphale’s scandalised expression was **delicious**. “No need to look so shocked, angel. That was forty years ago now!” Crowley smiled indulgently as Aziraphale rolled her eyes and began to leaf through the book greedily, interested as always in uncovering the merits of a new work – or an old one she hadn’t read yet.

Then the angel froze. “Aziraphale? You okay?” In reply, a shaking finger indicated a word: ‘ **arrangement** ’.

Crowley didn’t understand. Eventually, Aziraphale pulled herself together enough to manage: “I’d been keeping them a **secret**.”

“Secret? Them? What do you…” She trailed off, staring at the book. “Aziraphale, did you manage to **forget** that you’d published a book?”

“No!” the angel said, finally snapping out of her shocked daze. “They weren’t for publication!” The slight fearful **note** in her voice caused Crowley to wrap her arms around the angel comfortingly. She gently rubbed soothing circles across Aziraphale’s back as the tears began to flow down her face.

After a while, Aziraphale swallowed hard, and was able to speak again. “I suppose you’re right, it’s all just **history** now. But it still feels so _recent_. It wasn’t that long ago that we had to hide…” She sniffed sharply, then carried on. “It’s fine. Please don’t worry too much, I was just a little overwhelmed in the moment. I thought I’d lost them, you see, and then they turned up here – and not as a bundle, all secret and safe, but as a _published book_ …”

Aziraphale wasn’t in any danger of dissolving into tears again this time, but Crowley pulled her in closer for a **cuddle** anyway. She understood what it was to have something about yourself revealed unexpectedly and against your will. She’d had her eyes suddenly unveiled many times before. Even when it was somewhere safe, among people who wouldn’t think any less of her, it was still disconcerting, to say the least.

That was one of the reasons, Crowley supposed, that they’d become so close in the first place. They both believed that **body positivity** and consent were important concepts that intertwined tightly with one another, and often had an impact on many other facets of life, whether other people recognised it or not.

Her instinct was to break the tension with a joke, but Aziraphale didn’t seem in the mood for that now. Rather than **tease** , she indicated the book. “So, were these letters from friends of yours that you were keeping safe, or something? How did a human end up able to publish them?”

“They’re not…” Aziraphale sighed. “I don’t know. But they’re not written by… They’re not from humans.” The angel glanced up and saw Crowley’s **confusion**. She took a deep breath. “They’re from me.”

Now it was Crowley’s turn to go impossibly still. “I wrote them in the eighties,” Aziraphale continued softly, trying to avoid reopening the emotional **scars** of their history. “There was… a lot going on then. And I was trying to… understand myself, I suppose, by putting it into words. But I couldn’t send them to you. It was too much of a risk, and it might have hurt you more than helped. So I didn’t. But I kept them. Just in case.”

“Oh,” Crowley said, voice small. Aziraphale reached tentatively for her hand, relief sweeping through her as the demon clung tight back. The angel began to **massage** small circles with her thumb, offering a gentle grounding in the moment. “They’re beautiful,” Crowley whispered, as though she hardly dared say it. “The letters. I didn’t realise…”

“I meant every word,” Aziraphale said simply. She looked up into those beautiful golden eyes and smiled. “Crowley, I want to give you everything. Happiness. A **home**. A life full of everything you like best. It just didn’t feel _possible_ before. It does now.”

Crowley turned and buried her face in Aziraphale’s neck. The angel kissed the demon’s coiled tattoo, and murmured her vow there. “I’m with you now. Forever. I **promise**.”

**Author's Note:**

> (For anyone wondering, I reckon this was probably Adam’s fault. When he remade the world, he added books to Aziraphale's shop – why not add one to Crowley’s flat too?)
> 
> I hope you enjoyed my interpretation of the prompt list! I tried my best to make each of them feel like a natural part of the narrative, but some were harder than I thought! Please do let me know if you liked this format and/or the story – kudos and comments are both treasured eternally. Thank you for reading!


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